


Purgatory Blues AKA The Stuff of Nightmares

by RedHairedGoddess1



Series: Supernatural Tumblr Prompts [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: All monsters fear the WInchesters, Based on a Tumblr Post, Boredom, Denim wrapped nightmares, Hearts, Hunting, I don't know, Monster Heaven!!, Murder, One Shot, Peace, Purgatory, Reader-Insert, Short, Tumblr Prompt, Vampires, Werewolves, have fun, very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 06:44:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9111160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHairedGoddess1/pseuds/RedHairedGoddess1
Summary: Based on prompt: Ok, but imagine the monsters down in Purgatory like, “Well, I got killed but Purgatory isn’t too bad. At least I get to continue doing my thing without worrying about hunters – HOLY FUCKING SHIT IS THAT A WINCHESTER?!?”Just a short little one-shot that popped into my head when I saw this post. Helps with the writers block...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy
> 
> (=^.^=)

Monsters were everywhere. Every dark alley, warehouse, forbidding forest, haunted house, and ghost town was filled with monsters. Vampires, werewolves, ghouls, wraiths, you know the drill. They are out there. Or should I say, we are out there. You’re a monster too. You eat people. Specifically, you rip open their chest, breaking a few ribs as you go, just to get to the best part. You eat the heart. Biting into the organ, tearing chunks off to swallow and relish the feel of blood dripping down your hand like the juice of peach. It was mana from heaven.

You had been bitten a few years back by another werewolf. From that point on your entire live had turned upside down. Your senses were heightened to the point you could smell a pizza burning in a house five blocks away. 

Being a werewolf wasn’t so bad. You stayed on the move, kept your head down, killed a few humans every month and scarfed the hearts down like Doritos. Easy. Simple.  
At least until some hunter put a silver bullet in your heart. You staggered against a tree, blood still coating your chin from you last kill. Dear god, silver burned like a motherfucker. You growled. Clawed at your chest but it was useless. You were dying. 

Over the years you had heard of hunters. Other monsters told you about them. Humans that hunted down monsters that killed other humans. You steered clear of them religiously. As soon as even a hint of a hunter came your way, you ran. You had fought and killed a group of hunters a little while back. They’d caught up with you in  
Wyoming and you’d had no choice.

You had friends, mostly werewolves, in the monster world that told you about hunters. They told you how to avoid them. They told you about the best hunters that every monster feared. Monsters talked about hunters in hushed tones like parents telling their kids scary bedtime stories.

A guy named Rufus was popular to talk about even though he had died. Monsters said, if you smell a whiff of Johnny Walker, Blue Label, take off because Rufus would turn you inside out.

Bobby Singer was another one. Tough old bird, also dead. He had bottomless pits of knowledge pertaining to monsters. If you get close to Bobby Singer, run, hide, because he knows the fastest way to kill you.

Bobby and Rufus were legends in the monster world. 

And then you had the nightmares. The Winchesters. 

Monster parents checked under their kid’s bed for a Winchester. If you heard a stick breaking in the forest, your heart dropped because it might be a Winchester. You didn’t hide from a Winchester. You didn’t run. All you could do was pray that they would kill you quickly. You may have been the stuff of human nightmares but the Winchesters were the contents of every monster’s nightmare.

You had never seen a Winchester but you knew what they looked like. Every monster did. The hunter that had shot you in the darkened tree of your current hunting grounds was not a Winchester.

In that forest, your body was slumped. Bullet had gone deep and with a pained exhale, you died. 

You woke up in another forest. It was gray and dead silent. You noticed that your constant hunger for hearts was gone. It was almost peaceful here. It was Purgatory then. Monster heaven as some called it.

For a few weeks, you wandered around. Came across a few other monsters. Werewolves, you nodded, they nodded back, sometimes you even engaged in small talk. Vampires were fair game. You fought vampires for hours, neither of you tiring until a draw was declared and you went your separate ways. You avoided the Leviathans. They were cranky buggers. 

Purgatory was nice. You could do your own thing. Hunt. Run. Jump around. It was relaxing in a way that Earth was not. 

And then you caught something running by you. A guy. You couldn’t make out the face but it was definetly a dude. Then he turned and made a beeline right for you.  
You could see his face now. 

Oh

OH

FUCKING SHIT BALLS, WAS THAT A WINCHESTER??

You ran, talking and swearing as you went, “Shit, ass, fuck, son of a cunt face, stupid dick donut, crap-monkeys. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” 

So much for peace and quiet. This wasn’t even fair. Stupid Winchesters.


End file.
